


One Moment More

by olivejuice28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts, Open Ending, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23109580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivejuice28/pseuds/olivejuice28
Summary: When the smallest glimpses of truth lead to much greater things.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 114





	One Moment More

**First Year**

She wondered about him. Well, she wondered about everything quite honestly, as she was naturally very curious, but he was a bit of a puzzle. One she sorely wanted to figure out.

Her first observation of him came while she’d been helping Neville look for Trevor on the train and happened upon the pale blonde boy in one of the compartments. He was rather arrogant and smug, and carried himself with an air of superiority she didn’t quite care for. She guessed he came from a very wealthy family based on the high-quality robes he had on and the expensive looking trunk in the rack above him. Her assumptions were proven correct over time, but it wasn’t his society standing that niggled at her brain, it was him. She wanted to know what went on in his privileged little head, what made him tick.

She learned rather quickly that he was rude and snobbish to just about everyone; teachers, students, even his housemates and his so-called friends (though they seemed more like cronies or bodyguards the way they flanked him everywhere they went). She couldn’t understand how someone could be so unpleasant all the time. How was that in any way enjoyable? He never seemed to smile, only sneer or smirk, and he never laughed unless it was at someone else’s expense. Her mother had always told her that people who are hurting often hurt others as a way to express themselves and cope with their own struggles. Was he truly so miserable? So unhappy?

Many nights, in the quiet of the library, she’d see him at the table across the way. It was the only place he ever came by himself, and it was also the only time he wasn’t making fun of someone else or stirring up trouble for others. She got the impression he was rather a good student, much like herself, and that he was intelligent and enjoyed learning. It made her a little sad that he was so awful to be around most of the time, for she truly felt they could have some fascinating conversations about lessons or spells or the history of the school. Just about anything really, since Harry and Ron never seemed to want to talk about any subjects outside the realm of Quidditch, or Snape, or in more recent days, Fluffy.

One evening as she was scribbling notes for her History of Magic essay, a movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Malfoy was getting out of his seat, but instead of heading to the exit, he was walking towards her. She kept writing, just in case she was mistaken, and didn’t stop until he came right up to her table and plunked a large text near her arm. She looked at it, and then at him, rather surprised. He told her it might help, turned around and walked away before she’d even had the chance to form a simple “thanks.” He’d been right, of course, the book was extremely helpful and she’d been able to finish her essay in just another quarter of an hour.

She’d gone to bed that night pondering the idea that perhaps he wasn’t all bad. Perhaps he did have a bit of kindness tucked away under all the poncey petulance and shiny hair gel. She wished he’d show a bit more of that piece of himself to everyone; wished he’d feel comfortable enough to quit hiding behind his spoiled-brat-facade. If he ever did, maybe then they could have a civil conversation. She allowed the thought to bring a smile to her face as she snuggled down in her four-poster.

**Second Year**

Unfortunately, the summer break had not been long enough for Malfoy to transform into a better person. No, he arrived back at school with his pointy nose still stuck in the air, his thugs still following him, and his ridiculous level of self-importance still firmly in place. He’d even managed to worm his way onto the Slytherin Quidditch team; the result of his father buying all seven players brand new brooms. He didn’t like her comment about that and had called her a Mudblood, which was apparently one of the worst insults to be found in the Wizarding World.

Being entirely honest, she wasn’t really bothered by the slur. She knew she wasn’t a typical witch, knew that her lack of magical heritage was unusual, but it didn’t make her any less powerful. In fact, her wand seemed to work better for her than some of her classmates’ wands did for them. Take Seamus, for example, he was a Halfblood and could barely cast a spell without setting something on fire or causing a small explosion. All learning the unpleasant phrase had done was reiterate her low opinion of the boy who used it. He was proving himself to be not only rude and elitist, but prejudiced and cruel as well. It was disappointing that someone with so many advantages; wealth, intelligence, good looks - although she’d never admit that to anyone - would waste it all by being such a bigoted prat.

The year progressed much the same as the one before. She thoroughly enjoyed her classes, Harry kept getting into trouble, Ron worried about everything, and Malfoy continued to be obnoxious. Then, something unexpected happened. She’d been petrified. It was a wholly bizarre experience, truth be told. One moment she had been crouching around the corner with Penelope, trying out her new-found idea with the mirror, and the next she was staring up at the anxious face of Madam Pomfrey and feeling as though all her limbs had fallen asleep and needed to have that horrid tingly feeling shaken out of them. Harry and Ron had burst through the hospital doors and bounced on her bed in a flurry of excited chatter about everything that had happened in the Chamber. They made sure she saw the cards they’d sent her amidst the others on her bedside table, and she noticed a small bunch of flowers there, too. She asked if they knew who those were from, but her friends were none the wiser.

As she prepared for bed that night, after a long, relaxing bath and an even longer and far less relaxing round of questions from the other girls in her dorm, she was laying her robe over the top of her trunk and heard a crinkling sound. Reaching into the pocket she found a small piece of paper that she unfolded to find a very short message written in a script she didn’t recognize.

_Please wake up._

The simple phrase made her smile and she wondered if the same person was responsible for the flowers that now lay next to her hairbrush on her nightstand. She’d asked Madam Pomfrey if she happened to see who left them, but the matron shook her head and winked, saying perhaps she had a secret admirer. While she thought that was probably a bit of an exaggeration, it felt nice to know that someone cared enough to pick the flowers, remove the toxic leaves, tie them with ribbon, and then make the trip to the hospital wing just to leave them anonymously. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she placed both the flowers and the note in between the back pages of her _Hogwarts: A History_ book for safe-keeping when she packed her trunk to return home at the end of the year.

**Third Year**

Oh, she shouldn’t have done that. She really, _really_ shouldn’t have done that. Harry and Ron thought it was brilliant, of course, but slapping Malfoy had been wrong (no matter how good it felt to smack that infuriating smirk off his handsome face - _she could admit he was handsome and still loathe him, thank you very much_ ). But he deserved it. How dare he mock Hagrid. Especially when everything going on with Buckbeak was his own fault for being such a smarmy git. Ugh! He was despicable!

Not that her own friends were much better at the moment. Ron was being positively awful, insisting Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, and making her seem like some heartless hag any time she tried to point to a more logical explanation. She just did not believe her cat had done it. Was he capable of catching and eating the rat? Most likely, yes. Did that automatically mean he had done so? No. In fact, regardless of Ron’s insistence to the contrary, she’d been keeping a very close eye on Crooks ever since they’d arrived at school. The way he’d gone after Scabbers on the train had alarmed her and she didn’t want a repeat performance.

Crookshanks liked to eat spiders, newts, small frogs, and even the tiny mice scurrying around the castle that Mrs. Norris hadn’t found. But Scabbers was much bigger than all of those and Hermione knew he wasn’t out to get the rat as a meal. The easiest explanation was that her cat simply enjoyed antagonizing the poor rodent; that he was in it for the thrill of the chase. Of course, it would be her luck to have chosen a bully for a pet. However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going on there, whether it was just a desire to defend him or because there really was another layer to this volatile game of cat-and-mouse, she didn’t know.

No matter. Regardless of her protests or explanations, Ron was stubbornly set in his own notions and Harry was too taken up with all the nonsense about Sirius Black to be fussed by it. When pressed, he’d sided with Ron and that had just been the final straw for her. She was already exhausted, overworked, and stressed beyond comprehension. She didn’t have the time or the desire to deal with pig-headed boys, although their absence definitely added loneliness to her current list of negative feelings.

She had decided a walk down by the lake might help cheer her up, and set off while the late afternoon sun was still strong enough to keep the bite from the mid-autumn air. She’d spread her cloak on the ground and cast a simple warming charm to make herself a little more comfortable as she gazed out over the still, dark water. All of a sudden, one of the giant squid’s tentacles rose from below the surface and waved lazily in the air, as if greeting her. She giggled and waved back, knowing perfectly well that the creature probably had no idea she was even sitting there, but she appreciated the friendly gesture all the same. She thought about how amused Harry and Ron would be, and that brought her marginally-good mood plummeting once more.

She hated the fact that they weren’t speaking to her; hated feeling like she was back in First Year with no friends; hated being blamed for something that truly wasn’t her fault. Apparently thoughts of her fluffy familiar had drawn him to her side, because suddenly he came trotting into view, his bottle brush tail sticking up in the air. He climbed right into her lap and settled down, purring contentedly as if to show he appreciated her, even if no one else did at the moment. Her eyes filled with tears and she swiped at them angrily, since crying never solved anything and only made her nose red and her face all blotchy, and who enjoys looking like that?

As she took several deep breaths and tried to stem the flow of tears, she sensed the presence of another person nearby. Glancing over her shoulder, she was completely bewildered to see Malfoy standing a few yards away, watching her. She braced for a taunting jab or cruel remark, but instead he commented on Crookshanks and how he might be part-kneazle. She’d had that impression herself and gave a tiny nod in agreement, still baffled by his existence and the lack of animosity he was displaying for once. When he made a second statement, one about kneazles being an “excellent judge of character,” she was certain she’d sustained some sort of head injury. Before she could wrap her mind around his almost-compliment, he’d flashed her a smile and took off back towards the castle.

**Fourth Year**

It had been such a lovely evening, one of the best moments of her life, really. She had been marginally surprised when Viktor asked her to attend the Yule Ball with him, though he had been rather obvious in his attentions leading up to it. He was so attentive and polite - a perfect gentleman. Such a welcome change from the way _some_ people acted. She had to have known it wouldn’t last forever; the pleasant, blissful feeling that had surrounded her all night. Her gown made her feel like a princess, as silly as that might sound, and the way Viktor smiled at her as they twirled around the Great Hall only added to the dreamy quality of the whole event.

He’d walked her to the stairs and kissed her hand, and then her cheek, and then her lips ever so softly before bowing with much chivalry and bid her goodnight. She’d floated towards Gryffindor Tower on a happy cloud, only to have it blown away by the blustery rage of her idiotic best friend. Once again, Ron had managed to ruin things and although she knew deep down inside that he didn’t really mean to make her miserable, she was having a hard time forgiving him. Was it her fault that he was completely incapable of identifying his own emotions and expressing them appropriately?

She’d maintained a bit of distance in the days that followed, wishing to avoid another row and wanting to hold onto as much joy as she could from her first official date with a boy. Whoever would have guessed that she, bookworm extraordinaire, would attend a school dance with a world-famous Quidditch player. It was like something out of those cheesy Muggle movies on the telly and she couldn’t help the giggle that still bubbled up at the sheer unlikelihood of the whole thing. She was remembering the way the room spun around her as Viktor held her in his arms and led her in a dance with far more grace than she’d ever assumed he’d possess, as she made her way down the corridor. She was staring blankly at the book in her hands, humming the waltz under her breath when suddenly her arm was knocked by another student.

She stopped and looked up to see it was Malfoy who had bumped into her and he was looking down at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Before she could tell him off, he spoke.

“I see getting that mop you call hair under control was a one-off, huh Granger?”

Her jaw dropped and her brain ground to a stuttering halt as the tall blonde stepped away from her with a smirk on his face and continued on his way down the hall. She was still frozen in place as his voice carried back to her.

“You did look nice, though.”

 _What? Did Malfoy just compliment her_? A massive urge to search for flying pigs came over her and she shook her head, completely bemused by the last several seconds. She looked over her shoulder in time to see the edge of his robe whip around the corner and she couldn’t help the smile that tipped up the edges of her mouth.

**Fifth Year**

They didn’t understand, Harry and Ron, how incredibly important O.W.L.s were. The exams were the first step towards whatever magical career path one might take, and decided what subjects the students of Hogwarts would be allowed to study. Hermione felt the weight of it all a bit more than most of her classmates. Not only was she obsessive about her marks in general, but she knew she would have to prove herself capable on a whole other level, being a Muggleborn. The Ministry was full of Pureblood witches and wizards, many in positions of leadership, who looked down on people like herself and would gladly hand a position she was perfectly capable of filling to someone with a supposedly stronger magical background. She refused to let her lack of acceptable ancestry keep her from achieving the types of goals and making the kind of change she knew she had the talent and drive for.

So it was, night after night she firmly ensconced herself at her favorite table in the library, surrounded by books and scrolls and her color-coded study schedule. Each evening she had a specific list to work through and her detailed system helped her stay on track, no matter how over-the-top it might seem to others. Every time she finished an item on her nightly agenda, she crossed it off the list, and Merlin did she ever enjoy crossing things off her list. The only problem was that lately her lists seemed to be longer than the amount of time she had available.

In an attempt to cram more review time in, she had started eating more at breakfast and dinner so she could skip lunch to return to the library. It worked well at first, but then as the time until exams grew shorter, her checklists grew longer, and now one extra hour wasn’t enough. She began tucking apples or oranges in her bag at breakfast, along with a few pieces of toast or a couple of scones so she would have them for later, and would scarf them down on the way to the library during dinner, where she would stay until Madam Pince reminded her that curfew was upon them.

One night, just a few weeks before the wretched tests were to take place, she was frantically searching the ancient texts before her for the answer to a Charms question she was positive she’d previously known. Her brain felt completely wrung out and she felt her nerves fraying as she read and reread the same passages to no avail. Finally, in an uncharacteristic display of utter frustration, she snapped her quill in half and stalked off to the stacks once more, determined to find the ancient tome that held the answer she was looking for.

Upon returning to her table, she found a tin sitting on top of the parchment she’d been working on. Looking around, she noticed no one in the immediate vicinity; including one particular student who had previously been studying at his own table across the way. Yes, she had noticed Malfoy over there. He was often there, like herself, and it gave her a strange sense of comfort to see him bent over his books, intent on whatever assignment he was working on. At least here, in this most sacred hall of knowledge, they could coexist in peace, in an unspoken yet common goal. She still sometimes wished that things could be different. She truly believed they would have lots to talk about if they could ever get past the wall of animosity that had been sturdily built between them over the years.

Knowing Mad-Eye would lecture her for days for letting “constant vigilance” slide by the wayside, she carefully opened the tin without checking for dark spells or anything suspicious. She figured if someone wanted to harm her, they’d had plenty of opportunity all the nights she’d been alone in there or on her way back to her dormitory. As she removed the lid, she was delighted to find the container filled with biscuits and dried fruit, and a note resting on top.

_Don’t forget to eat._

She couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtful gesture. Whoever it was had obviously noticed how much time she’d been spending in the library, and possibly had even observed her absence in the Great Hall lately. As she sank back into her seat, nibbling on a shortbread square, she wondered who it could be. Madam Pince knew she was there, clearly, but the severe witch would no sooner give a student food near her precious books than she would don a tutu and pirouette down the hall. It also was most likely not Harry or Ron, since they were rather oblivious and found her over-zealous study habits annoying rather than cause for concern. Of course, it could be one of any number of random students who happened to see her in her semi-permanent location, but she had a sneaking suspicion she knew who it was.

The looping script on the small piece of parchment was written by the same hand as another note she received back in her Second Year, tucked into the pocket of her robe. It was also the same handwriting she’d seen on an essay on Professor McGonagall’s desk last year, one that had received the same top marks as her own, one that belonged to a certain blonde boy whose sudden absence from the library made a little more sense.

The smile that had been playing at the corners of her mouth grew with this realization. As much as she disliked many things about Draco Malfoy - _and Godric was the list ever long_ \- she’d always believed there was more to him than the arrogant veneer he presented to the world. She’d never confront him about it, never let on that she knew he’d been so kind, but simply knowing there was a heart under all that swagger and vitriol was enough.

**Sixth Year**

Something was wrong. Something was eating away at Malfoy and while it at first seemed to only affect his focus during class or his awareness of those around him, it was now apparently taking a toll on him physically. She snuck a few glances at him across the Great Hall and could tell that the already-small amount of food on his plate hadn’t been touched, nor did he seem interested in eating it. His face had a drawn and unhealthy look about it; while always pale, it now contained a grey tinge that only highlighted the dark circles under his eyes. His normally perfectly-styled hair was disheveled, as was his school uniform. If she didn’t know better, she’d assume he slept in it, but he didn’t look like he’d been doing much sleeping at all lately.

He’d missed several classes that week, which was highly unlike him, and she’d fought the urge to ask him where he’d been numerous times. It wasn’t any of her business, and she doubted he’d tell her anything anyway. Harry was obsessed with the idea that Malfoy was a Death Eater, and though she could understand the suspicion, she refused to buy into it. It wasn’t as if she thought Voldemort was above using underage wizards to do his bidding, or that Lucius Malfoy cared enough to protect his son from such a fate. No, she simply couldn’t bring herself to imagine him in that role. He might be an arrogant arse and a prejudiced git, but he wasn’t evil.

Malfoy was so wrapped up in whatever was going on in his own head, he didn’t even engage in the typical exchange of taunts and insults that had been their daily routine for over five years. Now, whenever he happened to catch her eye he simply ducked his head and turned the other way, but not before she saw the tension and misery etched across his features. She was worried about him, but she knew better than to voice her concern to either of her best friends. She almost approached him late one night as she emerged from an hour-long soak in the gigantic tub in the Prefect’s Bath. She’d started making her way back to the dorm when she realized she’d dropped her school tie somewhere and began retracing her steps. There it was, on the floor just a few feet away from the thick oaken door and as she bent to retrieve it, she caught movement in her periphery.

At the far end of the deserted corridor she saw a familiar figure pacing back and forth. She backed herself into the shadows and watched him for several minutes. He was clearly agitated and she assumed he’d cast a silencing charm because neither the sound of his frantic steps, nor the words he was muttering were reaching her ears. At one point, he stopped and stood in a patch of moonlight, staring out the arched window with a look of desperation on his face that made tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. He spun around and sank to the floor, his back pressed against the stone wall, his face hidden in darkness. She argued with herself for a few heartbeats but reluctantly agreed with the more logical side of her brain, that he clearly didn’t want to be seen or heard, and that he wouldn’t welcome the intrusion, particularly from someone he so openly despised.

 _And yet_ …. She was 99.9% positive it was Malfoy who’d written her those two notes, and if so, he’d clearly left her the tin of biscuits last year, and she suspected he’d also left the flowers with the first message. His comments to her by the lake, and after the Yule Ball had also been, dare she say it, kind. She pondered this as she silently traced the path back to Gryffindor Tower and resolved that the next time the opportunity presented itself, she would say something. She probably wouldn’t ask him to explain anything; that would be a waste of time; but she wanted him to know she noticed that all was not well and that she cared, whatever that might be worth to him.

Her chance came more quickly than she’d anticipated. The very next week, she was leaving the Prefect’s Bath again and turned to find him rounding the corner in her direction. They both froze as they assessed each other. He still looked absolutely awful and her heart clenched at the even-more pronounced circles under his eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks. His robes hung on him like they were two sizes too big, even though she knew they’d been perfectly tailored to fit the tall wizard. He was regarding her with a look she couldn’t identify, but he didn’t seem angry or defensive, so she took the small opening for what it was.

“Are you okay, Malfoy?”

The shock that flitted across his face was almost immediately concealed, but she had seen the surprise in his slate-grey eyes, and for a split second she wondered if he’d actually tell her something. He seemed to be wrestling with his thoughts as his jaw clenched and he took a sharp breath in. He nodded once and she took his lack of verbal response to mean that whatever was going on, he wouldn’t – or more likely couldn’t – talk about it. Her heart squeezed with a familiar ache she’d begun associating with him, and she simply looked at him with a small, sad smile.

“I hope so,” she said softly.

He looked confused by her statement and she risked moving closer while he still gave no resistance to her presence. She placed her hand on his arm and felt him stiffen, though he still didn’t move, and his eyes never left her face.

“Just, just be careful, Malfoy. Please.”

With that, she stepped around him and headed back down the hall, her heart pounding in her chest and her eyes welling with tears that this time, she allowed to fall.

**Seventh Year**

It was over. She had never been so relieved, exhausted, devastated, triumphant, and heartbroken all at the same time. To know that the most evil wizard in the world was finally gone for good lifted a crushing weight off her shoulders that had become so familiar she felt untethered without it. Her heart had shattered when she thought Harry was dead, and she had been filled with a rage she didn’t know she possessed. When it was made clear that her best friend was alive and still fighting, she’d joined the fray with a fierceness that left little room for mercy. She wanted nothing more than to put down as many Death Eaters as possible, save one. Malfoy was still on her radar and she was determined that he make it out of this alive.

She’d seen him that day at the Manor; read the anguish in his eyes as his maniacal aunt carved that slur into her arm. He was sickened by it, haunted and terrified, but also clearly trapped. She saw the blatant fear on his face in the Room of Requirement and knew that no matter what he’d done, what he’d been forced to do, he didn’t deserve to die in that raging inferno. She had been frantic as she’d plowed her way through the castle afterwards, refusing to allow her mind to play the “what if” game, and insisting to herself that he would survive. She didn’t know why it was so important to her, but it _was_ , and so she did everything she could to ensure success to that end.

When it was finished and the initial chaos of celebration on the side of the victors and panic on behalf of the rest had lessened, she sought out her best friends and second family. They’d rejoiced and grieved and eventually sank down on whatever they could find to rest for a moment and it was then that she looked for him again. She found him with his parents at the opposite end of the Hall and from her vantage point, he looked unharmed; just as grimy and exhausted as herself, but physically intact. The last vestiges of terror that had gripped her heart all day finally slipped away and she could breathe again. She was sitting with Ron when Harry asked them to go with him, and as always, they followed.

Her brain was whirring from what she’d just seen in the pensieve, and all that Harry had told them in Dumbledore’s office, when she parted ways with the boys as they set off for Gryffindor Tower. She was staring unseeingly at the floor as she slowly walked down the empty corridor when she felt the presence of someone behind her. Instinctively her hand reached for her wand as she spun around, but as soon as she registered the pale blonde before her, she let it fall to her side. He came towards her slowly and she felt her heart stutter. She had a million things she wanted to say to him, but none of them seemed able to make their way past her lips. He appeared to be struggling in the same way, for all he did was grip her shoulders and stare into her eyes, his own filled with a mixture of disbelief and longing.

She raised her own hands and placed them on top of his and in an instant he pulled her into a crushing embrace. She thought she’d cried herself out that day, but apparently there were still more tears to be shed as she sobbed in his arms. This time, however, they were not for those who had lost their lives, or for the amount of damage caused, or even for her own trauma. Instead, they were tears of relief and gratitude that the wizard holding her was alive, and also of remorse because she knew the road ahead would not be an easy one for him.

When they eventually broke apart, she simply gazed at him, still unable to formulate words as he clasped her hands and tried to speak. His thoughts seemed just as jumbled as her own.

“I don’t know,” he began, looking up at the ceiling as if it might hold the answers to all his questions, “I just want… I needed to,” but his voice cracked again and she realized she didn’t need any sort of explanation from him.

She gently cupped his cheek with her hand and pinned him with a fierce look, one she hoped conveyed the thoughts and feelings swirling within her, “Just…just find me when it’s all over.” He nodded and leaned into her touch, giving her other hand a small squeeze which she returned before turning around and making her way back to the Great Hall.

**ooOoo**

She did it again. She really needed to _stop_ this, it was getting out of hand, and yet she couldn’t force her heart to stay put whenever she thought she saw a shock of that familiar platinum blonde hair. Every time it felt like the wind was knocked out of her and her stomach twisted into knots, and then came the wave of disappointment when it wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t him, why would it be? The last time she’d seen him had been at his trial ten months earlier. She, Harry, and Ron had all spoken on his behalf and their testimonies had been the reason the former Death Eater – notably a reluctant one – was set free. He’d immediately been put at the Ministry’s disposal as they sought to round up the remaining dark supporters and rid the Wizarding World of anything and everything having to do with the entire catastrophe. Once his assistance was no longer required on a daily basis, Harry told her he’d turned his attention to the reparations his family needed to make for their part in it all.

Every day on her way in and out of her job at the Ministry, she looked for him. Every time she walked through the Atrium, or got in and out of a lift, or strode down a hall, she looked. Each afternoon when she took her break and went to the café across the street, her eyes roamed the sidewalks, the park, and the patrons inside the small shop. She’d been doing it for months, to the point where it was second nature and she didn’t even notice while it was happening, but she most assuredly noticed when she didn’t find him. Her heart felt like a pin cushion and each time her eyes failed to land on him, another tiny hole was made. She had thought about writing to him, but didn’t know if he’d want to see her or hear from her. She had told him to find her when everything was over, and now it was, but he remained elusive. She didn’t know what to make of it.

She had just purchased her standard cup of afternoon tea and was once again berating herself for the involuntary leap her heart took over a flash in the corner of the café that had turned out to be nothing more than sunlight glinting off a customer’s watch when it happened again. Out of the corner of her eye a shock of white hair appeared in the alleyway next to the shop and she turned out of habit, just to make sure, when she saw him. This time it actually _was_ him, in person, pacing back and forth in the empty little street, just as she’d seen him do in the deserted corridor that night. She froze on the spot clutching her cup, her eyes filling with tears that cascaded down her cheeks. He turned and saw her.

For a second, he didn’t move and she feared he would turn and walk the other way and she didn’t think her heart could handle that, but then he started slowly walking towards her until he was right in front of her. Her eyes roved his features, noting with pleasure that the dark circles were gone from under his eyes, and that the spark was back in their pewter depths. His cheeks weren’t hollow anymore and his robes fit him like they were supposed to. He looked whole and healthy and wonderful as he reached out a hand and wiped a tear from her face. That was all it took for her to launch herself into his arms, her tea thrown by the wayside, her sobs now audible as she trembled in his arms. He whispered in her ear that he had missed her, and that he’d waited so long for this moment as he kissed the side of her head and held her close.

Eventually she calmed down enough to step back and wipe her eyes, though her gaze never left his face, “What are you doing here?” she gestured to their surroundings.

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while sheepishly looking at the ground, “I was looking for you. I wanted to see you, just for a moment, if you had time…” his words trailed off, as if he was afraid of saying something she wouldn’t like hearing.

“You can have more than just a moment, Draco,” she told him with a soft smile.

“I can?” he choked out, his eyes filled with hope.

She nodded and her heart felt ready to take flight, “You can have all of them, if you want.”

He pulled her back into his arms where she willingly went as he whispered, “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a parallel story to another o/s entitled "One Moment." The original is from Draco's POV, and this one is from Hermione's. They can be read in either order, since they follow the same events. Thank you so much to Darknessdawns13 for the suggestion!! :)


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